


Bucky Oneshots

by izzbelle



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Cannon universe, Drabbles, F/M, SHIELD, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzbelle/pseuds/izzbelle
Summary: These are some Bucky/reader drabbles, these chapters are based on my personal drabbles, but message me for requests!I love Bucky, and I love the sexual side of his character being possessive and dark and animalistic. But in saying that, I feel any relationship he would have, wouldn't revolve around the bedroom, at least not for the Winter Solider. For that reason this is mature content, but that can change based on any requests.





	1. Swing bar

You tapped your feet to rhythm of the Billie Holiday song, your palm slipping from the alcohol tightened grip of your friend, watching as an admirer tugged her onto the dance floor. Her pretty blonde bob disappeared into the crowd. You sighed. 

The smoky air of the jazz café weaved through the space like sluggish fog, pushing through the silhouettes of swaying bodies in the dim light, not able to catch the swinging pace of the saxophone. 

Within the moment, a broad hand found its way to the small of your back and you twisted to find a tall man leaning into you, waiting to speak. He stepped back once he had your attention, and you noticed that the distance he kept wavered, as if he sought familiarity with your body. 

He caught your eyes the best he could in the shadowy room, “Hey doll,”

Deep voice. “Couldn’t help seein’ ya standing here all lonely like,” 

You crossed your arms at his words, waiting for a cheap pass, though instead- 

“I was just thinkin’ why a woman such as your self isn’t dancing?” 

“A woman such as myself?” You questioned, not recognizing the species of compliment, your eyebrow rose towards your hairline. 

The breathe in your lungs caught involuntarily as he dipped into your space again. From this distance you noticed faint stubble dusting a strong jaw and broad shoulders, crouching at your height. His breath danced on your ear as he spoke, 

“A dish. You’re a dish doll, can’t blame a guy for wondering,” He said, offering his hand to you.

“Come with me, I betcha dance something wicked with legs like that,” 

You blushed, accepting the offer and grabbing the outstretched hand. He was funny from what you could tell, charismatic as all get-out but God, the man needed to quit with the never-ending praises. You heard him start from behind you, “I want you to know-“

“You need to stop talkin’ or I’ll use these legs to step somewhere else,” You turned to face him again, your mouth hanging open in horror from the boldness of your step. Before you could apologize a smile broadened his face, his eyes lighting up,

“Lead the way, doll,”

The next day, it was not the tunes of Billie Holiday that kept a small smile on your face, and a sway to your step.


	2. Missions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where you're an Avenger

The mission had been strenuous, bloody, and completely unpredictable, even for an initiative dreamt up by Tony. Bucky had almost lost his other appendage when the leader of the arms distributor dragged out a bazooka, intent on blowing your partner off of his ship and after that, it had taken three hours and a dagger in your left shoulder to disable the crew. 

Bucky stood in the carrier jet with you, pressing down firmly on the wound, sliding the knife out with a delicate hesitance. You winced, starting at the whisper of his voice behind you, echoing in the craft’s empty hold. 

“Dammit,” His voice was hoarse, “I saw him coming at you with a knife,” He paused, breath shivering, “I didn’t get there. I wasn’t fast enough. You-“ He swallowed, “It could have been worse,” 

The undefined relationship between you wasn’t a stable matter. Bucky still didn’t trust himself to be sent on target elimination tasks, solo missions, the works. He was so painfully afraid of relapse he wouldn’t even allow himself to spar with people during combat training. 

It was strenuous being so prone to touch someone, to physically assert what was manifesting in your head but completely unable to. The frustrating dance consisted of you constantly proving you cared about him enough not to be scared, and him striving to give you examples of why he was not to be trusted. But you knew what he wanted, what you wanted, every time his breath hitched in your proximity, every time his touches lingered and your stomach twisted at the impossibility of it all. 

You sighed, leaning back into his warmth, and revelled in the brief moments of intimacy his adrenaline comedowns provided. You seeped into the cracks of his hesitancy with ease. His hands were still pressed into your injury, but with a slight shake, they drifted lower, down your ribs, dancing across your stomach, to settle over your hips. You allowed him to pull you gently around to face him, and felt him tense as you lay your head across his chest, listening to his breathing eventually even out. Your hands came up from your sides, running the lengths of his arms.

His metal limb had never been an issue for you. He seemed to want to flee, the moment any attention was spared to it, but you refused to allow him to pull away. You grasped both of his hands in yours, interlocking them, prying them from your hips and looked up to his face. Bucky stared down to you; face softer than you had imagined possible in the past few years. His grey gaze was lit in something that seemed to lift the sharp edges from around his mouth and lessen the purples under his eyes. 

“You could have died,” You held your breath in preparation for him to grow angry, “But you aren’t. You’re here, doll,” The tension dissolved. 

“God Bucky, you’re a real idiot sometimes you know that?” You felt him smile into your hair. 

 

“I know, and I have been for a long time but, look- you and me, we’re good together, we work. It’s got me thinking-“

You silenced him with the press of your lips to his. It was sloppy, probably not what he had wanted, but you meant it to be how it was, so he couldn’t take it back.

“I agree,” Your grin crept into the space between the two of you, and you revelled in the feeling of his smile on your face and his taste on your tongue. 

As he laughed and pressed you into the jet’s wall, murmuring indulgent apologies at your battered state, you let him work you open, not once flinching at Tony’s intrusive questioning when you returned with more marks on your neck than such a mission would warrant.


End file.
